Then and Now
by in the days of wonder
Summary: They say there is nothing like the memories and friendships you had when you were a kid. So here I am a college graduate with a Bachelor's Degree in Business and I couldn't have felt any emptier. — happy tenth anniversary clique


**Notes |** I remember a couple of years ago, when the final clique book came out, Lisi Harrison had this contest on Figment—a chance to write a short story or scene (basically a oneshot) about the lives of the pretty committee ten years later. I never entered the contest, just in case you were wondering. But now, looking through old entries and seeing that today is, believe it or not, the tenth anniversary of the clique series, it made me wonder, what would happen to pretty committee in ten years?

* * *

Westchester doesn't seem to be any different from when I left. The wealthy children and their families pile into their Range Rovers to go to country clubs and beach houses. A tradition many will continue to do and many have done before me. But there's always a slight difference as it carries from generation to generation—walkmans and parachute pants turn into MP3 players and overalls which turn into iPods and skinny jeans.

I remember when I was a kid, adults used to always criticize my generation. Something about how we didn't appreciate how easy we had it. Never would I have thought I would be in their position today (which includes the use the phrase 'I remember when I was a kid'). But really, it has nothing to do with the kids and more to with me. I'd give anything to go back to the days when all I had to worry about was the rivalry between the Pretty Committee and the DSL Daters (Those names still make me cringe. I can't believe my nine year old mind thought it was a "genius" idea), strict teachers (Mr. Myner really had it in for me in those days) and being crushed by crushes (Derrick Harrington called _me_ immature. Maybe that's why I haven't had that much luck in relationships these days—I just don't want to grow up).

I hate endings, especially the happy ones. Because why must all good things come to an end. On the road, I pass by the trails that I have come to know as Galwaugh Farms. Looking at the tree-lined road starts giving me that nostalgic feeling. I hate that feeling. Just another thing to remind me of how things were so much different than they are now.

Besides that fact that I've won a ton a riding competitions and I always had an excuse to talk to Chris Abeley, Galwaugh Farms was one of my favorite places because it was my alone time. Alone with my horse, Brownie, that is; whenever I was riding my white stallion I felt the pressures of school and family lifted off my shoulders (of course, until I went back home). Brownie was a good listener, someone who wouldn't judge what I was saying. And whether or not he truly did listen didn't really matter to me because it felt better than just talking to myself–

_BEEP!_

Getting back to reality, I realize that I am still driving, I'm going below the speed limit and Brownie (may he rest in peace) isn't there anymore.

It doesn't get any easier as I pass the stone building and landscape grounds that is my old middle school.

There are certain sights, certain sounds and even certain smells that defined my middle school years. Stop by the soccer stadium and I'll tell you a story about the time Kristen scored the winning goal that brought the OCD Sirens to the finals. Go to any classroom and that's where Alicia did the announcements every morning. Evenpaying a visit to the Café and taking a whiff of the cafeteria food would turn my grimace into a reminiscing smirk, because I'm pretty sure all of us have endured the stench of Dylan's after lunch burps at least once a day.

And to think in the beginning years I thought I only hung out with Alicia Rivera, Kristen Gregory and Dylan Marvil because they were rich and popular and the best Octavian Country Day had to offer. And I thought they liked me for the same reasons. But they stuck around because even girls like us had an ounce of loyalty. God, did we feel like we ruled the world (that is, when our world didn't surpass the stone brick walls of Octavian Country Day). Call us what you will—mean, annoying, obnoxious, bitches—on the outside we may have looked like an exclusive clique, but I don't think we really gave a damn what you thought.

Those girls are what I call my best friends.

Or _called_ should be the right word. Past tense. Seeing as I haven't spoken to them in years. It's not that I hate any of them now. We've all kind of drifted over the years. With the busy schedules of Alicia's dance rehearsals, Dylan's reality show, Kristen's Soccer Sisters' practice and the time difference between London and New York it was really hard to keep in touch.

I haven't had that much luck duplicating what we had in England.

So I ask myself, why the hell am I coming back here when I promise to leave this place without a second glance? Claire Lyons, who even though wasn't a true member of our foursome, I kind of saw her as an honorary companion. I regularly confided my vulnerabilities to her (because there were some things you couldn't admit even to your best friends). We've Sykpe'd regularly during high school and she recently wanted me to come and visit to celebrate the both of us getting our Bachelor's Degrees. Which is the only reason why I decided to come back, trying not to slowly regret it mile after mile.

The Lyons' household wasn't exactly the staple for Westchester lifestyle, but it suite them. A two story home with yellow siding, deep, red doors and shutters with a small yard. I ring the doorbell and Claire answers it. She is wearing an oversized California College of the Arts sweatshirt dark jeans and a pair of white converse. Ten years ago, I would've made some crack about how she was making a step up from those Keds she always wore. But I think over the years the clothing has seemed to grow on me. Weird how time does that.

"I really don't understand why you made me come here." This is the first thing I say to Claire in the flesh.

Like always, Claire doesn't take on my snarky remarks and just smiles sweetly, "I figured if there was anybody who I wanted to celebrate getting my bachelor's degree with, it's you. We used to live together, you know?"

I step into the Lyons home immediately greeted Jay, Judi and Todd (The kid's taller than me now!). Looking over my shoulder, I see Claire affectionately holding a man about her age. I examine the appearance of Claire's alleged significant other—light brown hair, _two_ blue eyes and not even a whiff of Drakkar Noir cologne. I'm surprise he wasn't Cam. During our Skype conversations in high school, Claire used to talk about how inseparable they were those four years. They had that Cory and Topanga relationship high school sweethearts always strived for.

"Is he your boyfriend?" I ask after Claire escorts everyone into the kitchen, wanting to catch up with me privately. "Because knowing you I thought you would be with…" my sentence trails off, hoping she knows what I mean.

"Oh, him." Her face lit up. "He and I kind of lost touch after high school, Layne too. I mean, we were all kind of going our separate ways anyway. He was going to the Manhattan School of Music, Layne was going to MIT. And I went to CCA for Photography, occasionally looking for auditions for commercials and stuff."

"Any luck?" I ask.

She shook her head.

"Well, Claire, you have to admit the reason why you got the starring role in _Dial L for Loser_ wasn't because you could act." I gave a small smile, showing that I was trying to make a joking rather than making fun of her. She laughed anyway, I guess she's learned the ways of my sense of humor after all these years. Although it wasn't exactly humor when Alicia and I competed against each other for that role.

The last I've heard of the Spanish beauty, she was going to intern for Winkie Porter of the six o' clock news. _Still a beta after all these years_, I chuckled to myself. You know how in your group of friends, there's that one person you hang out with the most? Well, Alicia was that person for me. The kind of friend who wouldn't just come to my house with a tub of ice cream and a bunch of chick flick movies after a terrible breakup, we would stay up all night devising a plan to get back at the guy.

That sort of all changed when Claire came into the picture. Because it was my parents' orders to be hospitable, I had to be nice to her. Which actually wasn't that much of a problem because getting to know her, she was a pretty decent person. But I think Alicia got a little jealous when she realized the more time I spent with Claire the less time I spent with her. When she tried to make her own friends, I blamed it all on her because I thought she all of a sudden hated me for no reason. My twelve year old self failed to realize I was at fault too.

We made up after that, but we weren't exactly MassieAlicia anymore.

"I'm going into the kitchen; do you want anything to drink? Tea, soda, _chai latte_?" she cracked a smile, making reference to the sophisticated palate I used to have.

I cracked a smile. "Surprise me."

She goes into the kitchen and I see an old issue of Seventeen Magazine on the coffee table. My first instinct is to question why Claire was still reading such a juvenile magazine, but then I take a look at the front cover. A familiar set of green eyes and a toothy grin stare back at me (a vast change from the awkward duck faces and gangster poses she used to wear). Her long, curly red locks fall freely just below her shoulders. She's wearing a strapless, formfitting, knee length dress that hugged her curves, revealing a figure I know a lot of women would kill to have.

Flipping through a couple of pages, I see the girl again, posing on the grass behind an article describing what she was up to now. After her family's reality show of three seasons came to an end, she became a model and the spokesperson for Seventeen Magazine's campaign on positive body image and self-acceptance.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Claire said casually, coming back from the kitchen with two cups of coffee.

"Gorgeous." It's almost unreal. Dylan used to never smile for pictures. Her philosophy: it was better to make a weird face and look unattractive on purpose then to give a normal, sincere smile and look accidentally ugly.

I believe that a friendship isn't solidified until you've had a "deep conversation". You know, the one where you automatically talk about beyond-the-surface personal things about yourself. Our Friday night sleepovers consisted mostly of lying down on my carpet floor, looking up at the ceiling and just saying whatever was on my mind. And of course, Dylan talked mostly about her insecurities. Which I always found surprising, considering the fact that she was always the first to cheer us up whenever we felt like crap.

A part of me actually felt like a decent person whenever I consoled her. Just a reminder that I wasn't as mean as everybody said I was.

And now this crazy, clumsy, quirky girl is a model, sharing the life lessons she's learned from others with the world—who knew? It's hard to believe that people can change in an amount of years. I too wish I could think I am the same selfish snob who has more flaws than she can count or even want to admit to. But I've changed. I've grown. I have a sudden desperate need to make amends with the people that I have hurt, but I can't because they've moved on too.

But one thing I would like to ask: does she still think of the people who gave her the confidence to do something like this?

"You know," I close the magazine and put it back on the counter and took a seat on the couch, "let's talk about something else. Anything interesting happened in high school?"

Claire tucked her overgrown blond bangs behind her ear, "I think the most interesting things happened at the end. Kemp and Plovert pulled this epic senior prank, Olivia was Prom Queen—oh, and Kristen was valedictorian and she got into Yale can you believe it?"

The thing was it really didn't surprise me. I'm pretty sure we all have that one friend we are all secretly jealous of, or at least I do. I've gotten into the most arguments with Kristen. And even though she was always right, I would say I won on the account that I was the leader of the Pretty Committee. And I may have told her that she wouldn't get that far in life because being smart wasn't enough unless you had the money. Stupid, I know.

But now look where she ended up, proving me wrong.

"Claire," I say her name quietly, like it's a swear word. "Do you think Alicia, Dylan and Kristen have forgotten about me?" I'm pretty sure it's the last question she wants to hear.

She looks directly at me and gives me a reassuring smile. "No sane person would ever forget friendships like that. I mean, do you think my friends in Orlando have forgotten about me when I moved here? Heck, when I went back to Florida that one summer, they said that I've changed. And they were right! I don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it meant that I was moving on. We had a great friendship. But that was a different stage of my life. Cam and Layne were another one. And I'm starting a new one at CCA. And you'll start a new one in England and I'll guarantee it will be great."

I wish I could fully believe her. But I guess that's just the pessimist in me.

But what she's saying makes me wonder, what would happen if I visit all of them now?

Would Alicia examine my outfit and give me a rate out of ten? Then tell me I was a nine point four because I needed a touch of blush (because she's always so honest)?

Would Dylan charge toward me, embracing me in one of her infamous bear hugs, practically squeezing me until my ribs broke and my face turned blue (because she thinks simple smiles and waves are for apathetic acquaintances)?

Would Kristen congratulate me on my degree, not mentioning her success (because she's too humble to brag)?

I don't think it would happen. Instead, we would stand there, eyes locked, recalling the memories that would flash in our nostalgic minds, but none of us would speak it. And I don't think there is a need to speak of it.

"Where are you going?" Claire asks as I get up from the couch and out the door.

"I think I'm going to head back to my hotel. Thanks for everything. I really needed this." I crack a wide grin. "Cheers, big ears."

Claire waves to me as I head back into my car. "Same goes, big nose."

So, when I drive past my old middle school, once more I let my nostalgic eyes paint the scene for me. Claire snapping a photo of our foursome—Alicia turning to her side and looking over her shoulder, trying out one of her supermodel poses. Counter by Dylan's goofy gestures as her tongue sticks out of her glossy lips. Kristen hiding her face with a worn-out copy of _Harry Potter_ because she did not want her picture taken at that time. And me front and center, smiling as I am surrounded by the presences of the greatest people I've ever met. And for once, I didn't even wince.

I may never have the same kind of friends I had when I was twelve. So I want to thank them. Thank them for getting me through some of the most turbulent years of my life. Thank them for reminding me that I wasn't always such a bad person. Thank them for showing me what it truly means to be there for someone.

The Pretty Committee and I will always be best friends. No matter how far apart we are from each other or how long it's been since we've last spoken, our bond would last a lifetime.

Or at least I'd like to think that.

* * *

disclaimed.

I'm sorry if this is rushed or disjointed or everything. It's a little different from what I usually write because there are barely any time skips and this is mostly just Massie recalling memories instead of a legitimate storyline.

well anyway, hope you guys are having a good day!


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